Of the Dunedain: Leola
by Waxing Slain
Summary: This is a companion to fic to my Daughter of the Dunedain.  Follow Leola through the events of the War of the Ring.
1. Chapter 1, or Beginnings

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Disclaimer:**

**Of course I don't own this! Well, Leola... She's mine.**

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Too short for me! Gah! Must. Make. Next. Chapters. Longerrrrrr!

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><p>It was the year 2993 in the Third Age though those in the Riddermark did not quite know that. All the women-folk knew was that a child was being born this eve and all the men-folk knew was that it was going to get very loud very quickly. The men continued to drink their mead and their ale and the woman made all the proper preporations for the arrivval.<p>

"Eressil, you must relax." a wise, old woman soothed softly.

"I-I do not know what to do, mother!"

"But your body does. Let it do the work for you." she advised gently and sure enough she was right. Eressil did as she was bid and it wasn't long before she hear a tiny wail. "Well, aren't you a bonny, wee lass!" she heard Rowenna murmurr as she pressed the babe into Eressil's arms. "She'll be quick, that one!"

"Hello there, little one." she said, looking into her child's face. It was round and red like any other baby's face but it wasn't any other child that had been born. It was hers and like her she could already see a shock of dark hair growing. It was unusual among the Horse-lords to have dark hair but not unheard of. Eressil could see bright, blue eyes with hidden depth for one just born.

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><p>She was running just as fast as her little legs would carry her. She was faster than the boy; she knew that for certain. His laughter followed her all the way up the hill. She collapsed at the top, unable to run any farther. She hear him huffing his way up to the top before he fell down beside her, his hair shinning golden in the bright day.<p>

"I'm... I'm glad I won't have to go again." she said quietly. "Da' says we c-c-can stay here now."

"Why be glad? Your mother is-" But he cut himself off quickly. She was younger than him, closer to his sister's age than his own. Her sharp, blue eyes threatened to tear up. He sat up and ruffled her dark hair affectionately. "I... D'you forgive me?"

"Always." she sniffled and grinned up at him. "I'll race you back, Éomer?" she offered in the same way that all children offer a race. In other words, it was not to be refused. He seemed to think for a long moment before returning her grin. He jumped to his feet faster than she could and raced down the hill.

"You won't beat me this time, Leola!" he called over his shoulder but she was already showing signs of overtaking him. Leola, the Doe, she was often called. She _could _outrun a doe; she could outrun nearly any grown man... if she wanted to, that is. She rarely did though. _Let 'em keep their pride! _she had said before tearing through the golden halls of Meduseld. In the end, she let him win but he didn't know that. _Boys are so silly,_ she thought as she watched Théoden-King and the Worm- _Everyone calls him that. Da' says I shouldn't but I do 'cause the other adults do too!_- were bent in close, quiet conversation. She watched them strangely for a moment when the Worm's cold eyes flicked over to her. She felt a little chill run down her spine and found someplace else to be quick enough.

She was watching again though admittedly it wasn't the King or his counsel. Instead she was watching Théodred and Éomer as they practiced with wooden swords. One day, they would hold real swords and be great warriors. She thought it was so romantic. _Maybe they'll come and rescue from some dragon that's kept me locked in a tower. _But she shook her head. What a foolish thought! She wasn't a princess and there were no more dragons. Even _she _knew that. No, they wouldn't resuce her or slay dragons with a mighty arc of their fable swords; the problems of the Horse-lords were much closer to home. They would fight Wild Men and roving trolls, not fantastical creatures she had never seen.

"I wanna fight too!" she called suddenly, unable to stop herself. Théodred paused just long enough for his cousin to knock his sword from his hand.

"You cheated!" he teased Éomer as he got to his feet and brushed his breeches off. He shrugged and laughed, looking very princely she thought. "No matter, then." He held out his wooden sword to Leola. She looked at it as thoug she had never seen anything quite like it. "Take it, if you want to learn." he said, placing it in her hands. "We can teach you, can't we?" Éomer looked between the two of them breifly before grinning again.

"I _suppose _we could..." was all he said. She grinnned back up at them then as her heart pounded with excitement.

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><p><strong>Well, there ya' have it! I finally uploaded it. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2, or Cold, Pale Eyes

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Disclaimer:**

**I Am Not Proud of the voices in my head. This is theirs.**

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><p><strong>"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." <strong>Confucius

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong>

I fibbed. These are definitely gonna be short and hopefully enjoyable distractions.

_On the names (as I excluded it last time):_

Erresil- Of Sindarin origin. Meaning "doe".

Leola- Of Anglo-Saxon/Germanic origin. Meaning "deer". Sticks with her mother's name but I think I included her name's meaning in Daughter of the Dunedain? Maybe?

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><p>Word traveled through the Mark, far and wide, like lightning. War something fierce and terrible was going to happen.<p>

"You can't see the future. You don't know nothin' for sure." said Rowenna as certainly and as surely as if _she _alone could see the future. "Go. Run along and slay your dragons now."

"I'm too old for that game now, grandmother." protested Leola, indignant. She was near to twenty-four, if she was a day over it. The old, white-haired woman turned her penetrating stare over to Leola and smiled grimly. There was a wisdom about her that Leola had never known to be present in another so old. Rowenna's hair was white, they said, because she had been scared to death(quite literally) when she was still young, fit, and fighting. Of course, that was an old wives tale and Rowenna was likely the one who started it herself.

"You're never too old to play a game especially one of dragons and castles. Now, go. I am old and tired." None of it was entirely true but none of it completely false either. She _was _old but not entirely tired and she hadn't played at any game in the last fifteen years.

Leola left frowning but left all the same. Outside, the sun was mild and the wind was soft. The men-folk went about their business and the women gossiped in whispered tones. She did not feel comfortable here and instead ran to the stables. The ground seemed to disappear from under her feet entirely and the great sky above her opened wide its arms. She hear soft sobbing as she entered the stables which were just an extension of the Hall itself.

"Hullo? Is, uhm, is there anyone in here?" She peered around the stable, it's musty scent oddly calming.

"Go away." said a small voice. "You can't see me like this!" Leola saw no one but in any case, she came to a standstill. She looked something akin to doe, frozen and tense before the hunter's began it's song.

"Lady? Is that you?"

"I said, go away!"

Taking careful steps, Leola found herself standing before the niece of the King. She didn't say anything because she didn't know what words would be proper. Instead, she sat down in the hay beside the younger girl and placed her hand upon Èowyn's slender shoulder. The poor girl looked absolutely terrified and the shadows under her eyes gave her the appearance of having not slept peacefully in days.

"What ails you so?" Leola murmured.

"Don't you listen?"

"Not usually. What troubles you, lady?"

"I... I can't tell you for fear of someone eavesdropping." In her voice was desperation and her eyes were frantic, even wild.

"Surely there is someplace where we can speak."

"No. No place is safe anymore. He haunts my every step and terrorizes my dreams."

"Who, lady?"

"That vile little worm." she hissed, her eyes narrowing down to angry slits.

"Oh... I-I see." There was not much else to say. No one, save for Théoden-King, was at ease whenever Gríma Wormtongue was around. Leola still remembered her first run-in with him without the least bit of fondness. In fact, no matter, how hard she tried, she could not forget his pale, cold eyes.

"Thank you, Leo'... For listening and all. Théo's right about you. You are terribly nice... sometimes."

"Well, you're very welcome, I suppose. Although, I can be very mean... sometimes."

The two young women, one of them still a girl really, shared a devious look and a warm laugh before taking two horses for a long run through the warm and golden-green plains.

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><p>As with all good things, their ride had to come to an end eventually. They walked the horses back to cool them down and the sun was already hanging upon the horizon. Éowyn's brother and cousin seemed to be waiting for them. Or at least for Éowyn. Leola doubted she had anything to do with them anymore. They were Horse-lords of the Mark now. Brave and valiant Riders. They were no longer her pretend princes that had come to save her from an imagined dragon. She smiled breifly at Théoden before whisking around and running, like she always did, back to her cot in the overpowering warmth of <em>Meduseld<em>.

She dreamed of cold, pale, and hard eyes. Forked tongue. Forked lightning crashing in the black sky. Forked lies.

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Might be a little OOC for Éowyn but I don't care how badass a woman she becomes, she is still female and we are usually inclined to tears when creepers are after us. 1000 words exactly!


	3. Chapter 3, or Unrequitted Love

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head. Them I own and am not proud of that. And I use a passage from the Anglo-saxon poem **The Wanderer**and part of **The Lament for Eorl the Young... Neither of which I own.

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><p>"The hottest love has the coldest end." Socrates<p>

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong>

**Umm**, okay, so there's a little tiny problem. There isn't a lot to go on as far as what was happening in Rohan before the War of the Ring. We know when important folks are born (Éomer and Éowyn) and when they die (Thengel but his death predates this story). And we know when Gríma begins to poison Théoden-King (3014 TA) and when the First Battle of the Fords of Isen is. So, basically, I kind of have to BS everything... Which I am usually pretty good at but Rohan is a little more difficult as it has always struck as the peaceful pastures type of place! I promise the chapters will get longer once we get up to the War of the Ring!

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><p>She frowned as she threw the saddle pad over Théodred's horse. Usually it was the wife or the sister and sometimes the mother, who prepared the horse for battle but he was unmarried, an only child, and his mother had died birthing him. She always felt some stab of pity for him when she thought of all he had never had. <em>No mother and no siblings. Those I have in plenty. And no wife<em>. She was somehow volunteered to do it for him. She finished tacking his horse up just as he and his men entered the barn. So fair and foul she had not seen him. Fair for his face and glorious armor and foul for the grim set to his mouth and hard glint in his eyes.

"Off to slay a dragon, m'lord?" she asked as he found her holding the reins out to him. The thin, hard line of his mouth twitched upward into a surly, arrogant smile.

"It is not dragons we ride out to meet." he replied stiffly. "Nor are there any princesses to rescue."

"No, these are an enemy much worse than dragons and of princesses there are none." she laid her head against his horse's smooth neck. "You will come back, won't you, Théo?"

"Of course, Leo'. I always come back to the princess, don't I?" All the gravity in his voice melted away and they were children once more. If she closed her eyes, she could still see them all running through the tall grasses in the warm summer months. And the light, floral scent of Evermind floated on the air always. His gauntleted hand rested on her dark head of hair for a moment. "Be brave 'till I return. Éowyn can't be the only willing to take up a sword."

"I will." she promised though she wasn't sure if she meant it or not. He took the reins from her trembling hands and mounted his bay destrier nimbly.

He straightened himself up in his saddle and looked back down to her before riding off. His long, golden hair flowed behind him in a way that Eorl the Young's must've done all those centuries ago. He looked tall and proud and kingly with his men riding bravely behind him.

"_Where now is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?" _she lamented softly as she found Éowyn and her brother watching with rather forlorn expression on their fair faces. The trio stood there of the steps of the Golden Hall untill they could no longer Théodred or his men.

"It is a sad day indeed." Leola murmured as they turned to go inside.

"Aye, sad that I was not permitted to go with them."

"Your chance will come, brother-mine." And Éowyn sounded so sure and confident that not even her brother could properly rebuke her.

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><p>Again Leola was waiting on the steps of the Golden Hall. Her heart thundered inside her head and threatened to break open her chest. <em>Why am I so frightened?<em> she asked herself as she strained to see some sign of their returning. Then, quite suddenly, she saw Éomer and his guard rising over the hill but Éomer did not sit his saddle alone. Théodred sat the saddle in front of him. He looked so... small and pale, nothing like he had when he had ridden away. She felt a clench in her chest as she went to Éomer's side.

"He lives yet..." he said as he dismounted and held his cousin in his arms.

And she felt her anxiety leave her just a little.

The Prince of Rohan was laid out in his bed but his fever would not leave him and his wound refused heal. Yet she stayed his side still and spoke to him of old times.

"D'you remember when we were younger and played Dragons and Castles? And you were the prince, of course, and Éomer was the dragon and you had to save me from? But then Éowyn came running through the stables and she looked half-mad with her little wooden sword... I wish we could be children again. The world wasn't half so complicated and there were always adventures to be had..." She laid her head on his chest and felt his fever. His heart struggled with every beat.

"I.." His voice was weak and cracked. _He speaks as though already dead. _"I... should... tell...tell you..."

"No. It can wait untill you are healed." she said softly.

"...Can't wait... Now..." But his voice trailed away and never aging would the Prince of Rohan speak or sit a horse or hold his sword. He had passed and where he went she could not say.

"_Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendor of the prince! How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it had never been! "_


	4. Chapter 4, or Evermind

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head.**

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><p><em>"I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride." — Alexandre Dumas (The Count of Monte Cristo<em>)

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><p><em><strong>A.N.<strong>_

_Startin' this bad boy out with a flashback. Angst!warning. And if you really wanna cheer yourself up after this depressing little peice of filler, go watch Viggo Mortensen's speech from the 2009 Empire Awards. He was a bit squiffy and all but definately on the best, most articulate acceptance speeches I have ever heard._

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><p><em>She laughed freely, her hair cascading around her as she fell back into the grass. Théo toppled down beside her, breathing heavily, as he took her into his arms.<em>

_"How is it you run so fast?" he teased, his eyes bright and shining. Those eyes of his...They twinklined like... Like twin stars on a clear night. _

_"I'm like a doe... At least, folks tell me I am!" She laughed again and wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled into his hair and neck. He smelled of leather and horse and sweat. _

_"Mmmm... So fair and dear a maid their was_

_Running through the hills of the Mark_

_Her sweet voice like that of a lark..." He too burst into laughter as he shook his head. "Mercy, don't tell my father of my poetic musings. I rather think he'd have my head."_

_"You're good with a sword in hand, sweet Prince. You're made for leading your people, not for writing poems and lays. It's others that'll do that for you." _

_He pulled her closer to him if that were even possible for him to do. She did not think it could be. They were so close already... So close... _

_"I-" he began._

_She hushed him. "Enjoy this moment." she told him softly._

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><p>Leola's eyes were red and bloodshot as Éowyn concluded her funeral lament and their Prince was taken in by the earth, the final womb, where forever he would sleep.<p>

_Bealo_. An evil death... There were no other words for it. Her dear Théo had fallen cold and dead. There was so much left she should have said or should have let him say but never did. _It wasn't right_. _He should've had a _real _princess. Not me. _She was left standing there long after everyone else had departed for the Feast. They had mourned him and now it was time to celebrate him yet she was in no mood to celebrate him. She would wear black forever and rip out her hair if she had too but she would not celebrate this.

"Walk with me, little doe." came the voice of Théoden-King suddenly and from seemingly no where. He was twirling Evermind between his fingers quite absentmindedly when he put it behind her ear. He gave her his arm and they began to walk, taking heavy, tenative steps. It was as though the ground was going to give in underneath their feet. "He cared for you deeply, it seems... And you for him?"

"Aye...Aye, I do...Did... I do." She looked away, ashamed and embarassed. He reached up and touched the flower he had placed in her hair.

"_Simbelmynë_..." he murmurred, his eyes clouded by an overwhelming grief. _"Ever has it grown on the tombs of my forebearers." _He looked into her eyes and she felt her soul shutter and then shatter almost completely. This man who was her King had endured so much. How much more could he bear? _"Now, it shall cover the grave of my son. Alas that these days should be mine..."_

And he said no more. She took his rough hands into her own. His hands we so much like Théodred's... She squeezed them gently and imagine for a moment they her Théodred's . Then she looked up and her fantasy was left broken and scattered in the wind.

"_No parent should have to bury their child._" he said after much time. His shoulders began to shake and she realized he was sobbing silently. She threw her arms around him and held him awhile.

"He was so strong, King. So very strong and brave. His soul will find those of your forefathers and all the other great heroes we sing of. I know he will." she said with great force as the tears began to roll down her face.

Even she had a hard time believing herself.

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><p>She avoided the feast entirely and retired to her own room. She found a little note that had been taken down in much haste and gently placed on her bed. It read, rendered here in the Common Tongue:<p>

"So fair and dear a maid there was

_Running through the hills of the Mark_

_Her with her sweet voice like that of a lark_

_She captured my heart._

_She moved swifter than any doe_

_And best any man in a race_

_And with her fair face_

_She shot an arrow through my heart_

_She sang when she was silent_

_She danced when she walked_

_And glittered like the stars when she talked_

_She brought me to life..." _

There was more but she could not read it for the tears in her eyes.

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Told you it was depressing...


	5. Chapter 5, or Remain

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head and they're very grumpy right now.**

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><p><strong>A.N.<strong>

So, last time there was angst and now there's something that never made it into A Daughter of the Dunedain. HA! And I don't feel bad about it :P

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><p><strong>Shiny! <strong>

From the short-lived(but no less epic) TV show _Firefly_, created by Joss Whedon. Effectively the future-y way of saying _cool_.

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><p>The tall, dark-haired woman came to the Eorlingas in the quiet twilight hours. Leola could tell she was with child though and that she was tired. Her stern face held a hazy sort of familiarity and her keen eyes regarded Leola with some form of recognition. Leola however couldn't place her face nor her eyes and eyes like those one typically remembered. Sorrow was in them.<p>

"Are you ill?" Leola asked the woman tentatively. Her familiar face broke into a warm, soft smile.

"Not ill. Not in so many words. Can you tell me where Théoden-King resides?" Her voice was husky but without harshness. Leola frowned. What could she say? That the King was in shambles over his son? Aged beyond his already heavy years? Poisoned both physically and mentally by the Worm? _Everybody knows_ she was thinking as she looked at the woman again and then realized that there weren't enough words in her Westron vocabulary for her really say what she meant.

"You will find him at the end of the hall but..." Instead she shook her head and watched as the tall woman turned and walked away from her. She had meant to offer some warning- _something_, at the very least- but she could find no words to offer her. _What words are there for times such as these?_ she asked herself sadly as she slipped away to the stable. There was a new horse there with as strange a look about him as the woman. Leola avoided him entirely; she didn't like the look of the white stallion though he seemed amiable enough. Instead, she found her way up to the hayloft and lay back in the straw.

_Háma was in a foul mood when he was relieved of his duty. The usually friendly and funny man looked daunted and tired. _

_"_What ails you?_" Leola asked him sweetly, trying to temper him a little. It didn't to work. _

_"_Them two_..." he said shortly, indicating a pair of travelers. She told him that that's all they were, just passer-throughs, but he shook his head. "_No, no, no, little doe. Not them. They have that look about them._" On the subject of the pair of strangers, he said nothing more and would not speak the rest of the night. Leola looked to them again and noticed the woman's unusually tall height: she stood only a little shorter than the Man she was with. They both were stern of face and dark of hair. She saw what_ _Háma was about now. They did have a certain look to them that was... questionable. Curious. Strange. The man stalked off, his expression grim, and the woman was left standing there, a frown upon her face._

She heard the barn doors swing open and the white stallion whickered softly in way of greeting. She peeked down and saw the tall woman take the white horse by his headstall and lead him out of the barn. Leola slipped down from the hayloft quietly and followed the woman out.

She lead the horse to hill covered in Evermind and Leola felt a sudden pang of sadness but she swallowed it down.

The woman spoke strange and musical words before the white stallion turned around and ran, silver and dirt trailing behind him. Then suddenly the woman began to laugh as though she just realized something great and funny. The woman turned around, her keen eyes on Leola who sat crouched in the grass like a predator.

"You can come out now, little one." said the tall woman in her husky, musical voice. Slowly Leola rose to her feet and eyed the woman carefully.

"You... you have been here before."

"Aye, I have." replied the woman. "But it has been some time and I gave no one my name when I was last here. I am Aelswyth, daughter of Aeldir and Amarien."

"_Ferþu hal, _Aelswyth. I... I am Leola."

Again Aelswyth spoke in her strange tongue then shook her head and smiled. "Forgive me, Leola. I have forgotten that I am no longer among friends who speak my tongue."

"It is strange and beautiful." commented Leola shyly. There was something magical about it. Something otherworldly.

"The same could be said for yours. I could teach you sometime, if you'd like."

"I would... I would like that very much..." Leola looked away, suddenly shaken by Aelswyth's keen stare. "I m-meant to warn you earlier about the Wormtongue but... It is not safe-"

"I know, little one. Now say no more of this but tell me what has been going on here in your home?"

Leola found this stranger much easier to talk to than perhaps anyone else in the Mark. She did not speak of Théodred except in passing. She was going to make it as though she had never known him- never loved him- and perhaps that would hurt more later. For now, blissful ignorance would be her mask and her mask would be impenetrable. No one would see passed it, not even herself. _Remain like stone. Remain like bone. Nothing can be harder than I. No one is faster than I. No one is stronger. _Then she looked into Aelswyth's eyes and knew instantly that that was not true.

_Remain like stone. Remain like bone. Nothing can be harder than I. No one is faster than I. No one is stronger than I. I am fast and terrible and know no fear. _Blissful, ignorant lies and this time she would believe herself. This time she would now think it lie because eventually she would start to believe it. If she thought it enough it would become true.

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Short. Hate me for it but remember to review


	6. Chapter 6, or Old Friends and New?

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Chapter 6**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head.**

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

A little repitition here! Don't mind it too much though! More is coming up!

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><p><strong>"Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do <em>and <em>die." **_The Charge of the Light Brigade. _Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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><p>Only a few short days after Aelswyth of the North arrived a curious band of travelers made their way into the Mark as well. There was an old man with white hair and twinkling eyes. He <em>was <em>old though not old. She could tell that he was something else entirely. There was a tall man with gray eyes and a stern, pale face. He seemed angry and she wondered why. Then there was one of Durin's Folk. Short, stout and bearded just as she had pictured them in a thousand silly daydreams. Then there was a tall, slender man with blonde hair. He was pretty. At least Leola thought so. They entered into the Golden Halls after some conversation with Háma. _Poor man_ Leola thought as she watched him grow flustered. He just had no luck these days!

She waited till they departed again and she sensed great things were happening though she did not precisely know what was going on untill she was called before Éowyn.

"Gather what you will, Leo'." she said shortly, her eyes shining with strength and resilience. "Though not much." she added as an afterthought

"What's happening?" Leola asked, fear gripping at her chest.

"I cannot lie to you... But I would not see you hurt. It is certainly war that comes to the Mark. Now, go!"

She took nothing with her except for Théodred's final letter which she still had not read all the way through. Perhaps she never would but she couldn't say for certain. _Nothing is certain_ she reminded herself as Rowenna would if she were around. Now it came down to waiting for the order to ride.

When word came, and it did come, she was called before Aelswyth of the North and Éowyn. They were both pouring over maps and near Aelswyth's hand on the table there sat a mighty sword. Leola wondered if she could wield it in her current... condition. Aelswyth looked up at her with those bright, gray eyes and smiled warmly. Rowenna came in a few moments later, her white hair shining like _mithril_ in the dim glow of the firelight.

"Leola of the _Eorlingas_, I have a task for you." said Aelswyth in her soft, husky voice. Leola swallowed her fear and nodded. "Ride North. As far North as one of these horses can carry you. Seek out my people, the _Dúnedain_. Bring them word of what is happening. Ask, nay, beg for help if you must! I do not know how many you could possibly muster but their King needs them. Now, ride."

Leola sought out the fastest horse she knew. Her own black courser _Ealdwine _and an old friend he was. She mounted up and took her bearings before kicking _Ealdwine _into a gallop.

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><p><em>Leola rode for as far North as her horse could carry her in a day and half a night. She knew she had at least made it out of Rohan for she had already passed over the uncannily desolate banks of the Isen. When night was in full swing, the round moon cast a silver glow upon the land and she had enough light to see her path. She dismounted her black courser and lead him by the reins along her dark path. She was ever looking over her shoulder and casting her glance in all other directions. Her whole body was held tense and her fingers played at the hilt of her dirk restlessly. She knew she was being watched, being followed but she made no move on her shadow. She could not actually see him and for all she knew she was wrong.<em>

_"Well" she began in the language of the Eorlingas. It sounded not unitarily like the neighing of a horse. It had it's own sort of music but was otherwise strange and foreign, soft and strong much like the people who spoke it. "It is time to rest, my old friend." As she was tying the black courser down, someone came up from behind her and grabbed her so quickly she did not know what was happening. A dagger flashed at her throat in the moonlight and she felt the cold metal press into her throat. _A desolate sort of fear flooded her. Her first thought was of brigands on the road.

_"No! Wait!" she cried in Westron as she clawed at the hands and arms that held her._

_Her shadow said something strange and musical but she did not understand him. She told her shadow so and she thought she heard laughter or something like it. _

"That is very dangerous in these parts. Tell me who you are and where you are going." _His voice was deep but calm. _

"I..." _She cleared her throat, the dagger breaking her skin a little. She stiffened_. "I am Leola. I am come from the Riddermark."

"What business do you have traveling these roads at night?"

"I cannot say!" She could not see him either and did not know if he was someone who ought to be told what exactly her business was.

"Then, it is the Enemy you work for." he decided firmly.

"No! My Ladies would very cross with if I told you and you were not the right peoples!"

"Which Ladies do you serve?"

"The White Ladies." _she answered hesitantly_. "I bear a message from the White Lady of Rohan and her counselor, Aelswyth of the North." _The pressure at her neck suddenly disappeared but still her captor held her tightly. She brushed her neck with her hand and felt a drop of warm blood at her throat._

"What people do you seek?" _he asked quickly, his voice a breath of wind on her ear._

"The _Dúnedain_."

"They are not the only ones then. We are few and scattered at that. What good would we be? No, do not answer." _He released her from his hold and handed her the reins of her horse. _"I cannot allow you to make your journey alone and you do not know the way, I fear. I will lead you." _he muttered as he took the reins back from her. He placed himself in the saddle then offered his hand to her. A look of shock spread across her face as she stared at his proffered hand._

"Well?" he prompted with a small smile and bright, gray eyes. "Take my hand." His face bore an uncanny resemblance to Aelswyth. He had that same stern, pale face and long, strong nose. And he was tall! So tall for any Man!

_She grabbed his rough hand and he pulled her into the saddle in front of him._

"Hold on tightly; we'll be riding as fast as this horse can carry us. I am called Arradon..."

He apologized as he tied a strip of dark cloth over her eyes.

"We must be guarded." he told her softly. "Times are dangerous enough to be so open but no, we are cautious, if nothing else." So he lead her on after Ealdwine had been let go. Soon she hear children laughing and many voices speaking that same musical language. Then suddenly she heard Arradon laugh. Her heart fluttered breifly. _Stop it! _she told her hammering heart. _Stop that now! _Théodred's face flashed before her eyes as Arradon lead her through a throng of people.

"Speak, girl, and say what you must." said a Man, _Halbarad _she would have guessed if she had to, after he cleared his throat.

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

_Ealdwine_- Anglo-Saxon_. Old friend_.


	7. Chapter 7, or Hope

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Chapter 7**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head. They're very mad at me right now :p**

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><p>"I would have written of me on my stone: <em>I had a lover's quarrel with the world." <em>Robert Frost on what should be put on his headston which is what it ended up saying.

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><p>A little repition but there's some new stuff as well. Next up: Part Three in my epilogue of A Daughter of the Dunedain.<p>

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><p>"<em>Speak, girl, and say what you must." said a Man, <em>Halbarad _she would have guessed if she had to, after he cleared his throat. _

Clearing her own throat now, Leola tripped and stumbled on word after word untill finally everything came spilling out in a low mumble. Hear head was down but she could feel that everyone had their eyes one her. Trembling and shaking now, she turned her head up and looked at those gathered around her. Arradon and Halbarad, looking grim and at least one of them looked dignified... It wasn't Arradon. Then there was Elladan and Elrohir. Elves...and twins at that! They were so... pretty. For all their severity they were pretty. _Magic, they's got. Da' said so. _But her father had never seen an Elf and she could not take her eyes off of them. It didn't matter; their message was the same as hers. The _Dúnedain _were needed by thier chieftain in Rohan. Halbarad did not need to think much, it seemed, for not a moment had passed after the Elven twins had spoken that the man had made his decision. He had realized there was no other course of action. His chieftain and kinsman was calling and he must answer.

"We have no other course, it seems, other than to make for Rohan. We will ride at dawn. Arradon, stay with me a while, lad." He then turned his keen gray eyes to Leola and the Elven Twins. "And perhaps you three would suffer our hospitality a little while longer yet?"

"We should not." answered the Twins in frightening unison. So alike were they that it was hard for her to tell the two of them apart. They were both tall and slender but not without strength. Their hair was dark and their eyes were sharp and grey.

"Other errands call us." concluded one of them severely though both their faces were grim and startling.

"But we would ride with you to Rohan." finished the other just as severely.

"And you, lass? You'll want to return to your home not doubt but I would not have you travel these roads at night." His cast his look Arradon's way, a fleeting smile tracing the lines on his face into a happy familiarity. "Whether you had an escort or no." he added as though it were afterthought but by Arradon's long-suffering look she could tell there was more thought in it than most things this tall man ever said. She gave Arradon a soft smile.

"I-I will stay as... as I've little choice in the matter." she said after clearing her throat. Halbarad dismissed the trio with a curt nod. Arradon's long-suffering smile faded as soon as the door was closed and she could not hear the conversation. She did not think she would want to if she could. _The poor thing..._ she thought with much pity in her heart for that was just her way.

"And you have found your voice at last, _pen-dhínen(_silent one)!" said one of the twins in a soft, sighing voice once they made it into the streets of _Estelmist_. _Lost Hope_, it meant in the Elven tongue. She thought it was silly. You couldn't _lose_ hope. No matter what, there was always hope.

"We could hardly hear you." said the other which she knew was probably a lie. Elves... Her da' had said they could hear everything. Ever beat of your heart. Every sound ever made... They could hear your thoughts, he said. _Da' was daft as could be. _But she could not stop staring at them. They were... beautiful. Could men be beautiful? She thought so.

"She seems to have lost it again just as quickly, Brother."

Very carefully, she stood on her tip-toes and reached her hand up to touch one their delicately pointed ears. A hand stopped her and her breath caught in her throat. It was strong and sturdy but surprisingly light and gentle.

"That is not... advisable, _pen-dhínen_." said the one who held her by her wrist. His gray eyes were sharp and bright.

"...I'm-I'm sorry. I've... I've never met an Elf before." she said softly not knowing that the blonde Man she had seen back in Rohan was not a Man at all but Legolas of Mirkwood.

"Well... Now, you have met two." said the other quietly.

"Ah but which is which?"

They turned to look at each other and shared identical grins. She did not know which she was more in love with in that moment.

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><p>Arradon found her with the Twins. He should have guessed as much. For all that they preached they both had hard time, it seemed, staying away from any female of any Race... And how they could tell a female Dwarf from a male was beyond him but apparently, they said, it could be done. He didn't even want to think about that.<p>

He thought about it.

Of course he thought about it.

_The beard..._ he kept thinking. _The height..._ He repressed a shiver though his lip curled slightly in disgust. _The beard! The bloody beard! _Didn't they have wives somewhere? He didn't know. Come to think of it, there was a lot he didn't know about them.

Leola saw him and flashed him a brillant, sweet smile. He literally felt his knees turn into twigs. _Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. _

"Did I get you into trouble?" she asked, waving him over.

"What? _You_? No... No. It was for something else. Something that involved birds and bread crumbs and... well, you don't want to know the rest, I suspect."he said, sounding more flustered than he had intended.

"Something you probably should not have done in the first place." said Elrohir, gently chastising.

"Admittedly." Arradon said after a moment of thought. "But I was not thinking-"

"You are never thinking." muttered Elladan darkly.

"And _you _are always interrupting me! I was going to say _But I was not thinking of ways in which I could not get caught!_"

And they all laughed freely and that night drink flowed openly. Of course most of Estelmist awoke with raging hangovers early the next morning but that was to be expected. Well, the Twins were quite alright but they were Elves and as such could not actually get drunk.

"I hate you..." grumbled Arradon to Elladan and Elrohir as he was saddling his horse up. "I really do... Sometimes."

"Haha!" they laughed together and shared one of their looks. The sort of look no one else understood but they did. _That _sort of look. "Sing us one of your songs, _Dúlindir._"

"Yes, we want to hear one of your songs!" came the voice of one of the other Men in the Gray Company. He sighed heavily though not sadly. He quite liked singing actually. There was something... just something about it. His mother... She had liked to sing too. He often suspected the only thing he knew or remembered about her was her voice.

"_The stars sweep chill currents _

_That make us Men shiver in the dark._

_And the White Tree withers in it's bark_

_As the stars come out to play_

_And the old Men leave off another day._

_In the City That Sleeps under the White Tower _

_All things are mad for an hour._..." Arradon frowned deeply. "Or something like that. You know I am not much for composing. Well, Father, is it time to be off?"

"Find that girl." growled Halbarad, still thoroughly peeved at the lad. It wasn't Arradon's fault. Not entirely anyway. Halabarad himself hadn't always been so... serious. He had been young once but never _that _troublesome.

"Leo'?" he called as he rambled through the small hamlet. "Leo'?" He found her playing at game with a few children. "Come, Leo'! It is time to go."

"Oh, so soon?"

"Aye, so soon."

He offered her his hand and he pulled her up off of the ground.

"Well, it'll be good to see home again! Off we go!"

He wondered how the hell she managed to stay so sunny through everything? _Hope_ he told himself. _She has hope._

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><p>These chapters are getting longer though! :P<p> 


	8. Chapter 8, or Home

**...Of the Dunedain: Leola**

**Chapter 8**

**Disclaimer:**

**I still don't own anything except the voices inside my head. They said "hello."**

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><p>~<em>The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow are as sharp as sword<em>.~

J. R. R. Tolkien

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><p><em>He wondered how the hell she managed to stay so sunny through everything? <em>Hope _he told himself. _She has hope_. _

"Another song for the road, little bird?" requested Elladan, his gray eyes glittering cool and clear like the stars above them.

"Not from I!" he replied quickly. Too quickly, he reflected and then they knew it for a lie. Of course it was a lie . He would always sing when it was asked of him. He wasn't anything like a caged bird though, simply twittering away. He was... He was soaring high and free. His grin became suddenly very devious as he burst into a new song.

"_There was this lass I used to know_

_And e'er since a long time ago_

_I have lover her ever so._

_I paused and watched by her unseen_

_In grove so warm as she danced on grass green_

_Her hair and eyes of spangled starlight sheen._

_There was a maid I held so dear_

_And all she ever game me was a sneer_

_For what I am but mortal-mere?_

_No great deeds have I done _

_And glittering jewels I have none_

_I have stars and rain and moon and sun..."_

His keen, gray eyes fell to Leola who was riding ahead next to his father. Halbarad turned and whispered something in her ear and Leola began to giggle, quite amused. A painful stab of unbidden jealousy lurched through him. Elrohir looked to him with the same sharp eyes(they were from the same stock after all) then up ahead to Leola. His sharp, Elven-features turned into a smirk though it was faint and Arradon, poor lad, didn't notice.

"Are your going to make those pathetic eyes at her for the rest of your life, little bird?" Elladan asked quickly and quietly.

"Huh? What?"

"I am sure you heard him, little bird." stated Elrohir quite pragmatically.

"Well... Aye, that I did."

"So, little bird?" Elladan pressed, his lips quirking into a mischievous grin.

"Perhaps... now... is not the... proper time." Arradon decided slowly and surely. The Elven twins laughed, rich and musical it sounded across the motley crew. Leola turned her head slightly to look back at them, her eyes bright and smile faint. His father too turned back to spy on what devious, little mischief his son possibly could've gotten into and was relieved to find nothing amiss save his son's unwarranted and withering look. "Later. I shall tell her later."

The Twins shared one of their knowing looks. _Later _had no true meaning to the Elven-kind. They had countless ages and so _later _became irrelavent. _Later_ meant something entirely different to them. _Later _could very well mean never for Arradon. Then Arradon realized that _later _might be too late. _Later_... well, he might never have a _later_. He scowled at the Twins before spurring his horse forward.

"May we speak as friend, Leola?" he asked as he rode up. Halbarad, being the man that he was and having been young and smitten once himself, fell back to a canter beside the twins.

"Of course!" she replied, her smile warm and soft as Arradon pressed on for a bit in silence. "Say what ever is on your mind, my friend!"

" Well... I..." he frowned deeply and looked suddenly like a statue of some old King from across the Sea. "I... do not know you very well but you are very dear to me, _pen-dhínen_."

"That is... very sweet of you, Arradon..." _But _she wanted to say _alas, my heart belongs to another who no longer draws breath. _She swallowed but could not speak the words aloud.

"But?" he sighed, his shoulders slumped. She reached across and let her hand fall onto his shoulder softly. He sighed again, conflicted. "There is.. another?"

"Aye... No."

"Which is it?" There was no laughter in his voice though his eyes seemed to twinkle mischievously.

"No longer is there a man in the Mark who awaits my return. He... fell at the Fords of Isen." she answered solemnly as she turned her face away.

"Oh... I see. I did not mean to be so callous." he told her and when she looked back her eyes were filled with tears.

"It is no matter. What is done is done and cannot be undone. He walks now with his forbearers, a greater son among lesser sires." She wiped her tears away swiftly with the back of her hand. She turned to face Halbarad now who rode close behind them with Twins flanking him. They were still so... pretty. She was reminded again of the blonde man she had seen in the Golden Halls and wondered is he had been an Elf? "If we press on, lord, we could make it ere the rising of the Sun."

Halbarad gave her consent and so the Gray Company pressed on.

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><p>Leola knew they were in the Mark long before any of the others could tell. It was the lay of the land, as familiar to her as her own face. It was the song of the little, night birds, soft and sweet. It was the rustle of leaves out to the east, a doe and her fawn no doubt. It was the Evermind that dotted the hills ahead, as bright and clear as the stars above them. It was in the land and on the air and in her blood. She was home. She took in a deep breath, the scent of horse reaching her first, before turning to Halbarad.<p>

"I should like to ride ahead, lord, to tell them of our coming." she told him.

"Nay, not this evening. We will arrived together though perhaps it is you who should speak as herald for us."

"Very well. Helm's Deep is close now and I know Théoden-King would have sentries out."

_Soon_ she told herself. _I shall be home soon_.

Though they did not encounter sentries, Helm's Deep was indeed close at hand and well-guarded.

"Who rides in Rohan?" she heard one of her _Eorlingas_ bellow, as was their fashion. Men came rushing out but she knew one for Arradon's kith if only by his stature and grim, pale face.

"Leola, milord. Of the Mark." She answered, sitting up higher in the saddle. "Where is Aelswyth of the North? Let her see here today that her kinsman came at her call."

"She departed for Minas Tirith." answered a man with gray eyes as he sheathed a sword. Leola recognized the fine blade as Aelswyth's and knew this man was dear to her, her husband perhaps.

"Halbarad! Of all joys this is the least expected!" she heard a tall man call as embraced Arradon's father. She dismounted and turned to Arradon now.

"Come and meet my people, Arradon. You will quite like them, I think..."

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Whew! Finally got this chapter up! I've been gearing up for classes and all so I've been pretty busy_. Es tut mir Leid_! I am so sorry. Anyway, here it is! I hope to get an amended timeline for A Daughter of the Dunedain up sometime in the next and random series of one-shots just popped up into my head tonight while I was at work. :P


	9. Chapter 9, or Break It

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. Geez!**

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong>

Been awhile, yeah? Anyway, I'm back! Excited? Well, you should be 'cause I'm gonna get this damn thing finished before I move onto something else!

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><p><strong>Remus Lupin: <strong>It is the quality of ones convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.

****Kingsley Shacklebolt**: **Who said that?

****Remus Lupin**: **Me.

**(And that's the part where I started crying. I wasn't even remotely ashamed)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Arradon watched Leola as recited an epic poem in her own tongue. She wore a trio of the white flowers of _simbelmynë _in her dark hair. Her eyes were bright and her voice was soft. She looked so happy, so at peace, in these warm, golden halls. _And, alas, _I _shall be the one to ruin it_, he thougth as she very thoughtfully concluded the poem with a coy grin at those who had gathered around her. She smiled brightly at him but she must've seen something in his eyes. That was it; his own face had utterly betrayed him. She took him by the elbow and led him away quickly.

"What troubles you?" she asked him, still smiling.

"We leave tomorrow morning at the break of day," he answered hesitantly.

"I could go with you," she said, looking long into his face.

"You do not know where it is we shall be going-"

"I could go with you!" whispered Leola, her eyes suddenly downcast. Arradon smiled sadly though quite softly.

"No_, pen-dhínen_. These Paths we take... It will be beyond dangerous and you are too dear to me." he said as he took her hand and kissed it. "I would not got myself if I did not take an oath-"

"Break it." She sounded terrified and desperate; she sounded as though there was no other option.

"I would not. That is worse than death. I would rather die on a sword than break an oath."

"It is foolishness! I can wield a sword as good as any man! Let me go with you."

"No. This is your place and these are your people. Stay here." He brushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her brow softly. "Stay here and stay safe. Who knows what will happen? Perhaps..." But he turned away from her when Halbarad called his name roughly. She too turned away, unwilling for any to see the tears that she knew she would shed. So, she ran., her hair billowing behind her. The flowers had fallen from her hair.

Arradon knelt down and picked them up and twirled one between his fingers before setting off in search of his horse. Horses, they were wise creatures and some knew more than they typically let on. He suspected his own horse was among those who knew more.

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><p>Leola found her way at last to the graves of the Kings of Rohan. <em>Not all of them were kings, <em>she reminded herself as she cast a glance Theodred's way.

"Can you hear me?" she wondered aloud, feeling quite foolish for talking to no one at all. Of course, the Kings and Prince of Rohan could not hear her. Long ago had their souls fled their mortal coil. Long ago they had gone away and where they were dwelling Leola did not know, could not say.

She frowned deeply as she looked around, the first rays of dawn bleeding into the sky. Red sky. Red light. It was an omen! _Blood will be spilt_, she told herself as she looked back to Meduseld. _Oh, he's going to die, isn't he? He will. He will. He will. I know he will_. She cast a fleeting glance at the mounds around her, lasntly on Theodred's, before she tore off toward Meduseld. She was too late though and the Grey Company had already left for the Paths of the Dead. Now the Men of Gondor were departing and she watched in silence. The man who wore Aelswyth's sword glanced her way and she detected guilt in his eyes though she did not know why. She gave him a short nod before turning away and going inside the Golden Halls.


End file.
